


Nightmares

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like any other assassin, Natasha was prone to nightmares. Hers just happened to be especially difficult to deal with. Good thing she has Clint Barton...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff had nightmares.

It wasn't that surprising, honestly. Given her line of work, it was something to be expected.

The rest of the Avengers knew, but they were powerless to do anything to help her. They couldn't walk into her room in the middle of the night when she finally woke up, because she could kill them just as easily when she was half asleep as she could when she was fully awake. There was only one person who could help her.

Clint Barton.

Clint had found out about the nightmares the night he saved her life. He'd taken her back to his hotel room, and they both fallen asleep, somewhat stiffly since they didn't trust each other. He woke up to the sounds of her crying and apologizing, but he did nothing, could do nothing.

It wasn't until 6 months after they became partners that he finally risked it. They shared an apartment at SHIELD HQ, with their rooms right across from each other. His eyes flew open as he heard her screams. Without thinking, he ran to her room, and managed to snap her awake. She clung to him for the rest of the night, finally able to sleep again. That one night had started a nightly routine that continued unless they were on solo missions.

He learned what the dreams were; he learned the best way to get her back to reality; he learned that the best way was sometimes to just let her come back on her own; he also learned that each dream came with its own reaction from Natasha.

The dreams about the fire that killed her family and led her to her horrifying life were followed by Natasha racing to the training room after Clint managed to wake her up. She would beat the shit out of punching bags, and on occasion, she would spar with Clint, if he thought it would help her. Eventually, she'd be exhausted from the exertion, and would easily fall asleep again.

The dreams about the men that had trained her to be a seductress extraordinaire, and later laid their hands all over her young, and still fairly innocent, body would send her running to the bathroom. She would spend as long in the shower as she needed, working to get the feeling of their hands off her body. Clint would come and sit on the bathroom counter, averting his eyes as she dried off and put on new clothes when she finally felt clean. They'd both seen each other naked, it was a side affect of them sleeping together, but Clint knew as well as anybody else that Natasha didn't take kindly to people catching her in a moment of weakness. So Clint averted his eyes until she was dressed, before leading her back to the bed, where they would lay next to each other, although not always touching- depending on how far the dream had gotten before she woke up- and they would fall asleep listening to the other's breaths.

The dreams of the children she'd been forced to watch die, whether by her own hand or not, were always the worst. Their faces were the ones that haunted her-they had been innocent when they died. She would wake and tears would pour down her face, while Clint wrapped her securely in his arms. He'd kiss her head and rub circles and shapes on her back, but he never spoke. If he did, he'd tell her that everything would be ok, but that would have been a lie, and he knew it. So he held her, allowing her to rid herself of the tears, until she was tired enough to sleep again, clinging to Clint as though he was her last hope for sanity. The dreams of dead children were the worst by far.

Until the New York incident. Now Clint, her partner, best friend, husband, was added to her list of nightmares. She'd see him leaning over her body, his ice-blue eyes holding no trace of the man he actually was. Those eyes would bore into hers, as he watched the life drain out of her. When she was finally dead, Loki would remove his control long enough for Clint to see what he'd done, before Clint was lying on the floor, dead, next to the person who'd trusted him the most.

When Natasha woke from those dreams, she would sit upright and try to think clearly. But when she felt the presence next to her, she would jump out of the bed and move to a corner, grabbing a knife on her way. Clint would wake to the sounds of her whimpering as she begged him not to kill her, clearly still stuck in the dream. He'd make his way calmly over to her, hands out in the universal gesture that showed he meant her no harm. It broke his heart to see her so small and broken, looking like nothing more than a scared little girl. She would continue to sit curled up in a ball, however, until she finally caught sight of his eyes. When she saw that they were the gray-blue that she loved so much, she'd drop the knife, and he'd sit beside her, puling her into his arms. She would begin shaking as sobs wracked her body, but no tears would fall.

Clint would sit on the floor with her until she calmed down again. Then he'd gently lift her body, and carry her back to their bed. He would lay her down gently, kissing the top of her head, before moving into the bed, attempting to keep some space between them, just in case. But Natasha would curl herself tightly against his body, until he relented and wrapped his arms securely around her tiny form.

Despite the kind of dream, and the difficulty of getting her awake, or tired enough to go to bed, there was always one thing that Clint would do.

Just as she was falling asleep, he would bring her hand up to his face, and gently kiss the wedding band she wore when she slept. Then he'd press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, before snuggling closer to her, and falling asleep next to his wife.

On the nights her nightmares struck, her husband was the only person who could protect her from the pain.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The first few months living at Stark Tower passed fairly well. The Avengers were getting along, and Natasha only threatened to kill Tony 10 times a day, down from her previous number of about 50. Despite how well everything was going, however, everyone felt that they weren't as close as they should be. Natasha and Clint spent most of their time together, Bruce and Tony were in the lab most of the time, with their spare time being spent teaching Steve and Thor about modern/midgardian technology.

Clint decided that they needed to have a night where the team all hung out together. He managed to get everyone to agree with him, and they settled on a movie, followed by making s'mores, something Thor had never heard of, and Natasha had never made.

The designated night finally arrived, and the team settled in to watch  _Star Wars_ , something Tony was adamant was crucial to modern life. They decided to do one movie a night, to let Steve and Thor soak everything in. They were scattered in the living room, with Tony lounging on a couch, Pepper's head resting on his shoulder. Steve and Thor were sitting on the floor, thoroughly engrossed in the movie, while Bruce's eyes were shifting from the movie and the crossword puzzle he was working on. Clint and Natasha were sitting on the other couch, Natasha lying with her head in Clint's lap. They'd finally come clean about being married- or forced into it by an over intrusive billionaire- so no one paid attention to their position.

Natasha was nodding off by the end of the movie, but she forced herself to stay awake, determined to keep the dreams away.

She hadn't had a nightmare recently, but she didn't want to chance it. They were always set off by the smallest of things, and she wasn't ready for everyone to hear her screaming. Clint seemed to notice that something was off, but one look at her face told him that he wouldn't mention it if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for a week.

The movie finally ended, and everyone made their way out onto the balcony, where JARVIS had started the fire pit, so it was ready to toast marshmallows. Bruce helped Thor spear the marshmallow, and tried to show him the proper way to make the s'mores, but the demi god was much happier to just eat the marshmallows, so no one mentioned it to him. Clint was showing Natasha how to toast them perfectly, and judging by the look on her face, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Or the thoughts that were undoubtedly plaguing her mind about the various ways to torture/maim/kill Tony Stark with the metal skewer.

Everyone was laughing and having a good time. They shared stories with topics that ranged from favorite things- colors, places, food, etc.- to funniest childhood memories. They were going around the circle they had formed surrounding the fire pit, sharing the funny memories, when it was Natasha's turn.

Nobody said anything. They all knew that her childhood had been ripped from her when she was 6, and they doubt she had any good memories. Clint smiled at her, clearly thinking of one she'd shared with him, but Pepper was desperate to end the conversation

"It's fine, Natasha. You don't have to talk about your childhood, we all know you don't like to. You can pick a different topic…"  
Natasha laughed, "It's ok, Pepper. I do actually have a few good memories, from before they took me."  
Pepper offered her a weak smile, and Clint squeezed her hand affectionately, encouraging her to continue.

"I was 6, and I had a little sister. Her name was Katia, and she was a year younger than me. We were very close, but we were complete opposites. I was fiery, and she was calm, preferring to ask questions first, whereas I've always maintained an 'ask questions later' mentality. We were both gorgeous, but in different ways. I was pretty in a 'she's got potential' way, and she was cute in a 'she's just a little kid' kind of way. One day, we were playing in our yard, while my mother was working on something outside with us. We were playing as small children do, when she suddenly stopped, and came to sit in my lap. Her green eyes stared at mine, and before I could ask what she was doing, she reached up and just poked my nose. As she was pulling her arm away, I looked at her face, and could see a little tinge of fear in her eyes, and her reaction was what pushed me over the edge. I burst out laughing. Before long, she was laughing with me, and in the distance, I could hear my mother laughing as well. We spent the next 10 minutes laughing, tears rolling down our faces. Before we went back inside, I gave her a hug, and kissed her nose, just as she'd poked mine."

Everyone was smiling with her at the memory, and Natasha realized that it finally didn't hurt as much to talk about the last memory she had with her little sister.

Pepper saw her contemplative look, and asked her about it

"What is it, Natasha?"  
The question brought her back to the group, and she didn't know if she was able to answer. When she looked at Clint, she saw him nod his head slightly once, and so she turned back to Pepper

"That was the last day I spent with my sister. That night, when we went to bed, everything was normal. But I was woken up by her screams. When I opened my eyes, I saw a man standing in my doorway, and realized that the rest of our house was on fire. The man grabbed me, and I didn't fight, because I thought he was there to save me. I heard Katia screaming and crying as he carried me out of the house. When he set me down, I begged him to go after her, but he said she was dead. I knew he was lying, and started screaming as well. That's when he put something over my face, and I blacked out. When I woke up, they welcomed me to the Red Room."  
Pepper looked shocked, and began apologizing at once. Natasha gave her a small smile, and told her not to worry about it, that her sister was better off wherever she was anyways.

They continued with the game, but Natasha's story had left a somber mood hanging over the group. She eventually excused herself, and made her way into the tower to go to bed, telling Clint to stay with the rest of the team. He nodded, and gave her a long hug and a kiss to the cheek before she left.

Everyone remained outside for another 2 hours, talking about nothing in particular, mostly stupid things each person had done, when JARVIS interrupted them

"Sir, there's screaming coming from Agents Barton and Romanoff's bedroom."  
Tony, along with the other Avengers and Pepper, looked confused. But Clint jumped up and ran inside, yelling at everybody else to stay outside, or go to their floor.

They looked after him, before deciding to all go to bed. The dispersed quietly, clearly still worried about his reaction.

_Shit, shitshitshitshit. Fuck. I shouldn't have let her go alone. Fuck fuck fuck shit._

Clint was mentally berating himself as he ran down the stairs to their floor, too impatient to take the elevator. As soon as he emerged onto their floor, he heard his wife's screams. They nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he forced himself to continue to their bedroom.

When he opened the door, he found her trashing around in the bed, drenched in sweat, the sheets pooled at her ankles.

He ran to her side, and clamped her arms to her body, hoping to wake her as quickly as possible. It wasn't working, so with a sigh, he picked her up and puled her into his chest, holding her tightly to his frame, whispering her name over and over again, urging her to wake up.

Her eyes finally snapped open, and her chest heaved with her attempts to get air into her lungs. She looked up and met his concerned eyes with her shining ones. When he knew that she was back in reality, he released her, and she made her way over to the closet, pulling out workout clothes, and throwing some at Clint. They changed quickly, before making their way down to the joint training center. He sat in the rafters and watched as she destroyed a punching bag.  
He knew what had set off the dream, and h knew that it always made her pissed. But even when she was pissed off, there was still a gracefulness to her attack, and Clint knew he'd never tire of watching her punch things.

They didn't speak, the only sound filling the room was her grunts as she repeatedly punched the bag. She didn't gesture for him to join her, and he didn't offer. Eventually though, he knew she was getting tired, so he climbed out of his nest, and made his way over to her, pulling her into his chest, and gaining a punch in the ribs or two. As she stopped moving, she realized that she was tired again, and knew that Clint had been able to sense it. She nodded at his unspoken question, and they made their way back to their bedroom. When the reentered, they changed out of the clothes, and crawled back into the bed.

Clint was happy to note that the sheets had cooled down drastically, something that was vital if she was going to be able to sleep again.

He pulled her tightly against his chest, and kissed her wedding band, then her head, and snuggled in for another night protecting his wife, a job he'd discovered that he didn't mind in the slightest.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Clint was making his way back to his and Natasha's apartments at SHIELD HQ. He'd been in the training center testing some new arrows, and time had gotten away from him. He opened the door to their shared quarters, and just as he locked the door, he heard it

"Please. Don't. Please!"

Clint was confused, and a little worried. He made his way quickly to the bedroom, and opened the door.

He saw her lying on the bed, trashing around

"Stop! Ivan, Please!"  
As soon as he heard her say that name, he knew exactly which dream she was fighting,

He made his way to the adjoined bathroom, and started the shower, before making his way back to her side. He grabbed her arms and pinned them to her side, before shaking her awake.

It wasn't the gentlest way to wake her up, but he knew that if he tried any gentle ways to coax her out of her slumber, that they would imbed themselves in the dream, and make them more unbearable, something she certainly didn't need.

So he shook her shoulders and called her name, until her eyes snapped open.

As soon as he saw the recognition in her eyes, he grabbed her hand and led her to the bathroom

"C'mon, Tash. Wash it off."  
He averted his eyes as she undressed mechanically and stepped into the shower. He climbed onto the counter and waited for her to finish cleaning away the memories.

He heard the bottle of body wash open and close a few times, but after a while, all he heard was the water falling onto the tile.

He began to get nervous, wondering if she was ok

"Tasha?"  
There was no response, so he hopped off the counter, and made his way to the shower. He stopped before pulling back the curtain

"Tasha?"  
There was still no answer, so he carefully pulled back the shower curtain. What he saw shocked him.

Natasha was sitting on the floor, her legs pulled into her chest, with her head resting on her knees.

Her head snapped up when he pulled aside the curtain, and Clint was able to make out faint tear tracks on her cheeks.

He crouched down to her level, desperately wanting to know what was wrong

"Oh, Tasha." He murmured. "What's wrong?"  
She mumbled a response, but he wasn't able to make out any of the words.

"I can't understand you, Nat. Can you speak up?"  
"I can't get it off."  
"Get what off, Nat?" Clint was confused, and her cryptic words weren't helping.

"Their hands. I scrub and scrub, but I still feel their hands all over me."  
"How bad was it, Tash? How far did it get?"  
"Too far. Way too far."  
Clint hated himself. He could have saved her some of this pain if he hadn't started the water before waking her up. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that.

"What do you need, Tasha?"  
She thought for a moment, before answering carefully

"I need you to help me."  
Clint sighed. They'd showered together before, but it was usually a continuation of their bedroom activities. Never in a situation like this.

"Tasha, I-"

"Clint, please. I just need to feel someone else's hands."  
Clint sighed and nodded. He stood up, and held out his hand to pull her to her feet. He stepped into the shower behind her, not bothering to take off his boxers.

He turned her so that she was facing him. Never taking his eyes off her face, he reached out and grabbed her shampoo, and began washing her hair. He gently grabbed her shoulders, leaning her head back to rinse her hair. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, making sure that her hair was completely clean.

When he was done, he turned her so that her back was facing him, and he carefully washed her back, massaging her shoulders a little as he worked.

When he was done, she turned back around to face him. He gave her a look, not really wanting to do what she wanted, certain that it would cause more damage than good in her fragile mental state.

_She'll kill me for thinking of her as fragile._

She returned his look, and he sighed, knowing that she'd beat him in a staring contest.

He carefully began washing her front, keeping his touch light to let her know that he wasn't going to touch her in any way that she'd been touched in her nightmare.

When she was completely rinsed off, Clint smiled at her slightly

"Is that any better?"  
"So much better." She whispered.

Before he could move to leave the shower, she grabbed his arm, and tried to get him under the water. Knowing that she was trying to repay the favor, he looked into her eyes, and still seeing the slight terror, he shook his head firmly.

She sighed, but let his arm go. He wanted to give her a reassuring kiss on her head, but he didn't know what that would do to her emotions, so he simply stepped out of the shower. He dried himself off and went to get a new pair of boxers.

When he reentered the bathroom, she was already in different pajamas, and running a comb through her hair.

He made his way over to her, and held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. He could still see a twinge of terror in her eyes, but it was fading as sleepiness took over. He removed his hand from her chin and gently stroked her cheek, before leading her back into the bedroom.

He helped her into the bed, and crawled in after her. He laid himself closer to the edge, allowing her to determine how close she wanted him. He could have gone to sleep in the other room in their quarters, but he wanted to be near, in case she had another nightmare.

They laid together in silence for a moment, before she reached out tentatively, and grabbed his hand. She held his hand for a few moments, without making another move.

Then she carefully pulled him a bit closer to her, but still, only their hands were touching.

It would have been frustrating, if he didn't know that she needed to do this. She wanted him as close as he could get, but she needed to make sure that she was comfortable with him being that close.

Finally, there was just an inch of space between their bodies, while their hands remained entwined.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, thinking that this was the limit to her comfort, and that she'd fallen asleep too, she surprised him.

She rolled onto her side, so that her head was lying on his chest, the arm belonging to the hand she had been holding was pulled around her shoulders, while her left hand rested gently on his chest.

He felt her slowly relax herself into his embrace as they lay there listening to the other breathe.

Her last move before falling asleep again was to grab his other arm, and pull it around her waist as well, so that he was holding her against his chest. She gently kissed his chest, and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to take over.

The last thing she remembered was Clint squeezing her gently, and pressing his lips to her hair.


	4. Chapter 4

She was walking through the city, arms wrapped tightly around herself. It was snowing, and she did her best not to get distracted by how pretty everything looked.

_Smart idea, Romanoff. Walking through Russia in the winter with no coat. Fucking brilliant._

She sighs to herself, and finally arrives on the street with her apartment. She's just walking to her building when she catches sight of something, or  _someone_ , waiting for her.

As she approaches, the figure turns around, and Natasha's breath catches in her throat.

_No. It can't be her. She's gone._

But despite what she was telling herself, her little sister was standing in front of her.

"Katia?"  
"It's about time you got home, Talia. Were you trying to kill me?"  
Natasha was confused at first. The girl she remembered as her sister was still there, looking the same as she did the day she died. But her eyes are different. Still the same gorgeous color as Natasha's own, but they're not the eyes of a 5 year old. They're the eyes of a person who made it out of the Red Room.

"What are you talking about, Kat? It's not even that cold."  
Her sister gave her a look

"That's not what I mean."  
"Then what do you mean? You know I'd never kill you. I love you too much."  
"I thought love was for children, Talia."  
"Kat, what are you doing here?"  
"Oh, thought you'd killed me, did you?"  
"I didn't kill you, Kat! I never could have hurt you. I was 6, and you were my best friend!"  
"You're lying! You're the reason I'm dead. The reason our parents are dead!"  
"I didn't do anything, Kat! I tried to get him to go back in the house for you, but he said you were dead! I yelled and screamed at him, told him he was lying, but he just knocked me out! I couldn't do anything!"  
"You should have gone back in! I'm supposed to believe that Natalia Romanova, the fiery sister I grew up with, wasn't able to figure out a way to get her little sister out of their burning house?"  
"Yes, Kat! I couldn't do anything! I'm sorry!"  
Natasha had tears streaming down her face by this point.

"Oh, you're sorry? What are you sorry about, Talia? Sorry you let me die? Sorry you forgot all about us?"  
"I could never forget you, Kat."  
Before her sister responded, a horrifying sight began taking place before Natasha's eyes.

Her sister's skin was slowly being burned.

Her little sister was dying, again before her eyes. Without making a move, Natasha knew there was nothing she could do.

"Maybe you couldn't forget me, but what about them?"  
Natasha looked to the side where her sister was pointing, and was met with a horrifying sight.

All the children she'd ever seen die, were standing in front of her, all dying form their wounds.

Fire, knives, bullets, poison.

Every one of the children were dying, and she was powerless.

"I couldn't save them! I wanted to, I tried saving them, but I couldn't!"  
"You're lying and you know it Talia. You could have saved them. You  _should_  have saved them! They're worth more than you'll ever be worth!"  
"You don't think I know that?" Natasha screamed.

"Apparently not, or you'd be dead right now."  
"They were innocent. You all were! None of you should have died!"  
"Then why did we? Why didn't you do something?"  
"I did! I killed the people responsible! I hunted them down, and I killed them!"  
"That's not enough!"  
"I'm sorry! Please, forgive me, Kat."  
"It's too late for that, Talia."  
Natasha looked around at all the children in front of her. Their eyes were dull, lifeless.

When she looked back at her sister, she had tears in her eyes, but Natasha could still make out the gun Katia had trained on Natasha's head.

"So how about we fix it?"  
Just as the gun fired, her eyes snapped open.

**XXXXXXXXX**

Clint Barton had woken up suddenly. At first, he couldn't figure out why. But as he looked around his cheap hotel room in Russia, he heard a muffled pleading.

He looked over to the bed he'd allowed Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, to have.

He'd finally caught her, he'd had her in his crosshairs, when, for some reason, he'd changed his mind.

He still didn't know why, didn't know if he ever would.

He was about to fall asleep again, slipping his hand under his pillow to make sure his weapon was still there, when he was able to make out the words the assassin across the room was saying.

"Please. I'm sorry, Kat. I'm so sorry!"

Over and over the woman apologized, and Clint realized she was having a nightmare. A part of him wanted to go to her, to wake her up and hold her and comfort her, but she would likely snap his neck. So, as much as he didn't want to, he listened.

And as he listened to her apologize over and over, he realized at least one of the reasons he hadn't killed her.

For as deadly as she was, Natasha Romanoff still had a bit of humanity in her.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Clint never mentioned that night to Natasha. Even as they became friends, got used to each other, he couldn't tell her. What would he say? That he'd watched and listened as she was gripped by a horrifying nightmare? Somehow, that didn't seem right.

Years later, after they'd started whatever kind of relationship they were in, after they trusted each other completely, after he'd helped her through other nightmares, she was once again plagued by the nightmare she'd had the night after he saved her.

It was the exact same, with a few more spiteful words from her sister.

But it was also different, because at the point where she was looking at all the children, their lifeless eyes, the ghastly ways they died; she was ripped from her dream, and met the eyes of Clint Barton.

She had a moment to see his eyes, before she was crying.

The tears that fell were silent, much like they were in the dream. Clint pulled her into his chest, and kissed her head, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

He didn't say a word, didn't tell her it was ok, it wasn't. Didn't tell her she was safe, she wasn't. Didn't make her any promises at all.

Except that he would always be there when she woke up from a nightmare.

She cried all her tears out, and finally felt sleep tug at her mind. Clint laid her down gently, and climb in next to her, allowing her to get as close as she needed. He ran his fingers through her hair, his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

She fell asleep with her head on his chest, breathing in his scent.

Before he fell asleep again, he kissed the hand and her head, and hugged her tightly to his body.


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha was pinned, but that didn't mean she was going to give up easily.  
She squirmed and struggled, refusing to keep still. Her eyes were shut tightly, refusing to look at the man who'd pinned her.

"Open your eyes, Tash. I want you to look at me when I kill you."  
She couldn't help herself. As much as she wanted to ignore him, she couldn't. Her eyes snapped open, and locked onto his ice blue eyes.

When she finally managed to tear her eyes away from his, she caught sight of the knife in his hand. It was massive, serrated, and as she looked at it, he brought it down harshly on her arm, tearing through the skin.  
She knew this was Loki's doing, knew he'd picked his way into Clint's head, but that didn't make the man any less terrifying.  
Clint knew everything about her, knew exactly how she feared to die, knew that being tortured and then killed was high on the list.

And yet, here he was, carrying out the deed. He sliced her skin several more times, careful not to hit anything major, knowing how to make this as long and painful as possible.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he brought the knife against her throat and slit her throat, smiling as the blood seeped out.  
Just as her vision began to get fuzzy, she saw Loki step behind Clint, and watched as he hit Clint upside the head, knocking the mind control out of him.

Clint was stunned at first, but after a few seconds, he noticed the blood surrounding him, and a second after that, he noticed the source. When his eyes locked onto Natasha's, they instantly filled with regret and hatred.  
"Tasha! Oh, Tasha, I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me, baby, please." He grabbed her left hand, tracing her wedding band.

He bowed his head, and let out a strangled sob. As the noise left his mouth, Loki hit him on the head again, causing Clint's skull to split almost completely in half.

Just before Natasha succumbed to the darkness, she managed to turn her head slightly, and saw her husband fall to the ground, his eyes wide in horror, staring at her.

The last thing she felt before finally allowing her life to slip out of her was the feeling of Clint's hand in her own.

With a start, her eyes bolted open, and she realized that although the dream was over, there was still something in her hand.

* * *

Clint woke with a start, just as another kick landed on his leg. He rolled slightly, and saw Natasha trashing around on her side of the bed.

He quickly reached his hand out to grab hers, and gave her a gentle squeeze, trying to get her to wake up.

* * *

Natasha sat bolt upright, trying to figure out what was touching her hand. That's when she noticed the man lying next to her. Almost as if he sensed that she recognized him, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Although he did it to comfort her, Clint squeezing her hand had her shooting out of bed, yanking her hand away from him.

_Can't trust him. He tried to kill me. I have to kill him._

She bolted to the corner, managing to grab one of her knives on the way.  
Once she reached the corner, her back protected by the wall, she chanced a glance at Clint's face. She could tell, even in the darkness, that his eyes were his own, not the horrific blue Loki had made them.

 _Might be a trick. Can't risk it._  
But the eyes don't lie, right?  
Don't risk it. You're the Black Widow. Just kill him.  
Don't do it. You're not just the Black Widow. You're Natasha now.  
Kill him.  
Don't do it.

The internal war continued, draining what was left of Natasha's energy, and her legs gave out as she slid to the floor and curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, still gripping the knife tightly.

* * *

Clint watched as his wife bolted out of bed and to the corner. He could clearly see the conflict in her head, trying to decide if she should kill him or not.

When she finally sank to the floor, he sighed, and carefully made his way out of the bed. He held his hands up, palms facing towards her showing he meant no harm, as he slowly walked towards her. He saw her flinch away slightly, but did his best to ignore it.

He stopped two feet in front of his wife, crouching down to be at her level.  
"Tasha, look at me."  
When she shook her head, refusing to comply, Clint sighed, but tried again anyways.  
"Tasha, please. Look at my eyes. If they're bright blue, you can kill me, ok?"

Natasha seemed to think over his proposition for a moment, before slowly nodding her head.

Finally, she slowly raised her head, until she was staring into Clint's eyes.

* * *

"If they're bright blue, you can kill me, ok?"

She heard his words, and thought them over.

_It could still be a trap. Best not to take chances.  
But it's not. If he was going to kill you, why would he tell you you could kill him?_

Natasha struggled for a moment, before finally accepting his proposition.  
 _Idiot. You're going to get yourself killed.  
Good decision. It's him, it really is. Give his eyes a look._

Natasha raised her head, eyes slowly ascending his body, until she was face to face with his eyes.

His gray-blue, completely gorgeous, eyes.

_See, it's him.  
It could still be a trap._

But as Natasha stared into his eyes, she knew, without a doubt, that it wasn't a trap. That it was really her husband. That he wasn't going to kill her.

* * *

As Clint stared into Natasha's eyes, she stared back. He wasn't sure how long they'd held eye contact, but eventually, Clint saw Natasha drop the knife she'd been holding, and he sighed in relief.  
He slowly reached out for the knife, and noticed that Natasha tensed again. But he saw her muscles relax just as quickly when she saw him slide the knife to the other side of the room.

He carefully moved so that he was sitting next to his wife, with his back pressed against the wall.  
After a moment, she leaned her face into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, as he felt the dry sobs wrack her body.

Clint held her as she sobbed into his chest, rubbing patterns on her back. When she finally began calming down, and her breathing returned to normal, Clint shifted so that he was holding her chin in his hand.

"Tasha, I'll never hurt you, I promise."  
Natasha looked into his eyes, and nodded, before wrapping her arms around his neck.

Clint slid his arms under her body, and pulled her off the ground, walking back to the bed.  
He set her down carefully, and was about to walk to his side, when he heard a whisper from the doorway.

"Is Мама ok, Папа?"  
Clint turned around, and saw his and Natasha's twin daughters standing in the doorway, clearly frightened for their mother.

"Мама is fine, Ali."  
"Are you sure, Папа?"  
"I'm as sure as I can be, Ana."  
The girls nodded, but made no move to go back to their rooms.

Clint turned and looked at his wife, and saw that she was still awake. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Natasha gave a small nod.

"Aliya, Anastasia, do you want to spend the rest of the night with us?"  
Both girls nodded quickly, before darting out of the room, only to reappear moments later with their stuffed animals.

Clint jerked his head towards the bed, and both girls scrambled up hurriedly, sliding in next to their mother, while their father climbed in on their other side.

Natasha wrapped her arm around Ana, pulling her daughter into her chest, while Ana held tightly to her stuffed black widow spider. Clint copied Natasha's motion, pulling Ali in closer.

Just before the girls fell asleep, Ali held up her stuffed hawk out to her father, who kissed the hawk's head, before kissing the spider Ana held out to him. The girls repeated the process with their mother, before snuggling closer to their parents, falling asleep quickly.

Clint looked across the bed to his wife, and the look in her eyes told him they were thinking the same thing

 _Five year olds have strange habits.  
_ Clint gave his wife a look,  _But they're cute.  
_ Natasha smiled, and gave an answering look,  _Damn straight they are, Barton.  
_ Clint smiled in return,  _We make cute kids, Tash._  
That we do, Barton. That we do.

Clint carefully reached across his daughters, and grabbed Natasha's left hand, pulling it to his mouth. He gently pressed his lips to the gold band on her finger, before interlacing their fingers so that their wedding bands were touching.

_I love you.  
I love you too, Tasha. More than you know._

Natasha smiled as she fell asleep, And Clint followed into sleep soon after, holding hands with his wife until their daughters forced them out of bed the next morning, demanding that Clint make them waffles.


End file.
